By noon, everyone had obeyed Cassian’s orders.
It was, by any reasonable measure, a miracle.
Cassian did not trust it.
He sat at the head of the private dining table, watching four injured men remain in their assigned chairs with the vigilance of someone expecting them to disappear through the walls the moment he blinked.
Mezos’s shoulder remained secured beneath a blue support field.
Kamal wore a narrow breathing band under his collar and looked personally offended whenever it activated.
Arik’s hands had been freshly sealed and bandaged at last, not leaking gold ether everywhere.
Liam was inspecting his lunch.
Arik recognized the process.
They had eaten together at least a meal nearly every day during the two months since their bond formed. Liam did not trust unfamiliar food on sight. He examined texture, scent, temperature, and anything resembling an ingredient he had not personally approved before committing himself to a bite.
At present, his suspicion had settled on a pale triangular dumpling.
He turned it over with his fork, cut through the center, and separated a piece of filling from the dough as though searching for evidence of wrongdoing.
"It does not contain onions," Arik said.
"I can see that."
"You also dislike peppers, and there are none."
"I can see that too."
"Then what are you looking for?"
Liam studied the filling. "Something unpleasant that has not yet identified itself."
Arik leaned closer. "River fowl, winter leek, silverroot, and a small amount of fermented plum."
Liam looked at him.
Arik stopped.
He had not read a menu.
The name followed immediately.
Velin pockets.
Thin dough steamed over cedar water. Traditionally served with plum sauce and ash salt.
The sauce should have been sharper and the dough slightly thinner.
Arik stared at the dumpling on his own plate.
He had never eaten one.
Goliath had.
Or perhaps Arik remembered its taste because Goliath did, which was a distinction his mouth seemed unwilling to respect.
Liam noticed the change in him. "What?"
"There should be ash-salt."
Cassian slowly lowered his cup.
"The kitchens stopped using it forty years ago."
"Why?"
"The mineral fungus became difficult to cultivate safely."
"It ruins the balance without it."
Cassian stared at him.
Kamal’s expression softened with old recognition. "Goliath said exactly the same thing."
Arik set down his fork.
The rest of the table had become familiar without permission.
Glassleaf rolls filled with white riverfish.
Roasted silverroot glazed with moonplum.
Dense black grain cakes made for military councils because they remained edible for hours and tasted equally unpleasant at every temperature.
He knew Cassian disliked the moonplum glaze, Arik’s eyes drifted to him, and the plate confirmed it.
"You still do not eat the silverroot," Arik said.
Cassian’s gaze dropped to the untouched portion.
"No."
The memory sat strangely inside Arik, not quite his, but no longer entirely distinct.
Liam placed the smallest piece of dumpling into his mouth.
Everyone waited.
He chewed with grave concentration.
"Well?" Arik asked, bending his head down, tilted in question.
Liam swallowed.
"The texture is acceptable. The sauce is too sweet."
Arik looked toward Cassian with quiet vindication.
Cassian closed his eyes with a mix of feelings he could barely discern. Happy that this time the one passing through the gate is Goliath or a version of him, but sad that the one he raised is no longer alive.
"Please do not encourage each other."
"I am not encouraging him," Liam said, selecting another piece. "I am confirming that his dead emperor has accurate opinions about food."
Cassian’s eyes opened again.
"Severin told me your full name."
The fork in Liam’s hand stopped.
Across the table, Mezos’s posture altered by a fraction. Kamal’s breathing band brightened beneath his collar as he drew in a slower breath. Arik turned toward Liam, every trace of amusement leaving his face.
Liam looked at Cassian abandoning the disassembled dumpling.
"Did he?"
"He considered it relevant."
"He considers walls optional. His judgment is questionable."
That nearly drew a reaction from Mezos, but the tension around the table remained.
Cassian folded his hands before him.
"I have nothing against you, Liam."
The use of his name rather than his title felt deliberate.
"A family name is not a confession," Cassian continued. "Nor is blood evidence of intent. Felix’s crimes belong to Felix."
Liam waited.
"But the council will not respond as calmly."
Arik’s bandaged fingers tightened against the table.
"They will respond appropriately," he said.
Cassian met his gaze. "They have spent seventy-two years waiting for Goliath to return. Twenty-five years ago, Felix crossed the Gate wearing his face and carrying enough stolen ether to deceive the outer wards."
The room lost what little ease it had regained.
"When they learn that the man who opened the imperial office returned bonded to Felix Canmore’s grandson, they will be frightened," Cassian said. "Not because they have proof against Liam. Because they have already watched their hope become a weapon before."
"They can be frightened quietly," Arik replied, already deciding to leave this palace if it meant that Liam couldn’t be accepted by his side. He understood why people would object; he just didn’t care.
"Civilians rarely panic according to protocol."
"Then the council can control the information."
"For a time."
Liam placed his fork down.
Arik watched him carefully.
So did Mezos.
Kamal’s hand remained wrapped around his cup without lifting it.
All three were preparing for anger, withdrawal, perhaps the brittle silence Liam used when a wound had gone too deep for words.
Liam glanced between them.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No reason," Arik said.
"You think I am going to have a breakdown."
"No."
"Yes," Mezos said.
Arik shot him a look that made the servants by the door freeze.
Mezos shifted his functional shoulder. "He would notice."
Liam sighed.
"I can use Ravenwood."
Cassian titled his head, interested in the second option. "Ravenwood?"
"My maternal family’s name."
Arik studied him. "You have considered changing it?"
"Henry and Enia offered it repeatedly." Liam remembered that Cassian didn’t know the names. "My mother and stepfather." He added.
"Why did you refuse?"
"I did not."
Liam picked up his fork again and separated another piece of dumpling from its sauce.
"Felix refused for me."
Gold pressed faintly beneath Arik’s fresh bandages.
Liam continued before he could speak.
"Each time Henry or Enia attempted to begin the legal process, Felix reminded them that I had younger siblings."
Cassian became completely still.
"He threatened their lives," Kamal said.
It was not a question.
"Yes."
Liam’s voice remained level, but his fork had stopped moving.
"He told them that changing my name would be interpreted as removing me from his bloodline. If they touched it, one of my siblings would die. He was very precise about the order."
Mezos’s jaw hardened.
Arik’s ether flared hot enough for gold to show through the medical seals.
Liam placed his hand over Arik’s wrist.
"Do not reopen those."
"I am sitting perfectly still."
"Violently."
Cassian looked away for a moment, allowing them the illusion of privacy.
When he returned his attention to Liam, his voice had softened.
"So Canmore was not a name you chose to keep."
"No. It was a name Felix ensured I could not escape."
"And Ravenwood?"
Liam looked down at his plate.
"Henry offered it when I was twelve. Enia offered again when I entered university. Then when I took over Lab V."
His thumb moved once across Arik’s bandage.
"They wanted me to know there was somewhere else I belonged."
Arik’s expression changed—not gentler, precisely, but the fury beneath it gained direction.
"You belong with them regardless of your name."
"I know."
"And with me."
"I know that too."
Cassian watched the exchange silently.
"You would not be required to abandon Canmore entirely," he said. "Official records could reflect both names until the legal transition is complete."
Liam frowned. "I do not want both."
The answer came without hesitation.
Cassian nodded once. "Then they will not."